((Starbase 118 - Alora’s Office))
Alora’s stomach growled at her. The organ had been as patient with her as long as it could stand it, but stand it would no more. She should have been off a good hour prior, and any sensible person would have logged off duty and gone and gotten some dinner. But oh no, she just /had/ to finish that report. That report reminded her that she wanted to go over the results of the experiments on the granular yellow mold that had been found recently out on Sirvarus IV. Which in turn led her to wonder how some of the other department’s experiments were doing, which only made her look through even more reports and results.
However, enough was enough. That growl had been held in far too long, so when the organi finally gave it up, it did so explicitly. Emphatically. Loudly. There was no question - Alora’s body was craving food and she’d better do something about it. With a sigh, the scientist finally gave in. The work would be there in the morning. Besides, there was plenty to do - but, her stomach warned - food first.
Idly, Alora wondered if certain other people were off duty. Who might not have signed off yet, and be just about ready for dinner? Having company was much preferable to eating alone. The only person she knew she was /not/ going to ask was Nijil. Nope. Not doing that again. Maybe Ashley? Oh, Tony prob...no, wait, he had a special training that evening. She’d almost forgotten. What about…
For some reason, the name came to mind. Sal Taybrim. Why, she didn’t know. Alora liked the captain, that was certain, he was great. Awesome, even. However, unlike Aron, she didn’t know him /that/ well. Yet, that little tickle in the back of her mind though, that didn’t mean she couldn’t /get/ to know him better, and having dinner was one way to accomplish that. With that thought in mind, Alora made her way out of her office.
((Starbase 118 - Captain Taybrim’s Office))
There, of course, begged the question of whether or not Captain Taybrim was still working. Was he still in his office? Fortunately, it was a simple question answer - the computer had all the answers. Okay, it had most of the answers. This was definitely something it could answer, even if it couldn’t give the answer to life, the universe, and everything.
Actually it could. 42.
It could not, however, give the question. But Alora was not begging that question, she simply asked as to the whereabouts of a certain Sal Taybrim and that was a much easier answer to give. Once she had established that, yes, he was still working in his office, then Alora made the trek to the base’s commander in chief. The doors opened for her and she leaned over, only her head visible behind the threshold at first, long, dark hair slipping over her shoulder and cascading down. With a grin, she then straightened up and passed through the archway.
DeVeau: Good evening, Cap’n.
As usual, Alora’s eyes lit up with the smile that sprang easily to her lips.
Sal looked up with that casual ease of someone who always seemed to know who was at the door before it opened. Empathy guided that second sense of even calm. He smiled gently, waving a hand over his console and setting it to dark.
Taybrim: Good evening, Alora. Something on your mind?
At the question, Alora let that smile fade and she sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Looking down, she dug the toe of one shoe into the floor, then reached up to flick some hair over her shoulder.
DeVeau: Yes, I believe we have a bit of a problem.
A problem she said, but mischief and amusement read through empathy. Sal perked a curious brow.
Taybrim: Oh? And what’s that?
Those eyes didn’t truly go dim, but that light only flared ever brighter as she brought her gaze up to meet Taybrim’s. She had, of course, been playing around - but it seemed she’d managed to fool the empathic man with her demeanor. Either that, or he was just playing along with /her/. It was probably the latter.
DeVeau: It’s dinner time. And you’re still working.
With the stack of padds to one side and the still cooling screen there was no denying it without looking like a fool. Why yes he had been working.
Taybrim: Yes, this is true ::he nodded gently:: All of these oh so thrilling reports kept me busy. ::Clearly they were not thrilling reports, but he had been kept busy.::
Why did Alora have the feeling such an event occurred more often than it should? The man was so busy taking care of everyone else, he wasn’t really taking care of himself. Well, she was going to have to see to that - at least for one meal.
DeVeau: I do believe I have a solution for you.
Taybrim: I’m happy to hear it, what is it?
DeVeau: Well, you could come have dinner with me. Just a thought.
Sal blinked, and then smiled softly.
Taybrim: Well, that is a lovely idea. ::Tucking a few PADDs into the desk.:: What were you hungry for?
DeVeau: I am hungry for….food.
Alora’s face slipped into a silly grin, then relaxed into its standard form.
DeVeau: What tickles your fancy?
Sal Taybrim stood, stretching for a moment, letting the stiffness from sitting drain away.
Taybrim: I like most everything. I’m particularly fond of spicy foods and Vulcan fusion cuisine, but I’ll try anything.
That was the diplomat in the Captain talking. Both from diplomacy and experience. Part and parcel of diplomatic training was trying different things from different cultures to be able to treat with others on their ground in a way that would not be considered offensive. And in this he had tried a lot of foods and come away with a love of strange flavors and recipes.
Alora’s eyes widened with interest, the green glittering. Oh, he liked spicy, did he? Oh yes, a man after her own heart. Often times she had to ask for places to make things extra spicy because they tended to cook dishes that catered to a more mundane palette. After all, they had to think about their entire clientele, but it was easy to add more heat to a dish, so no one had ever minded.
DeVeau: I adore spicy. If I’m not crying, it’s not spicy enough. Got anywhere in particular you like?
Taybrim: I know many places on the station. ::Dark eyes twinkled.:: Did you have anything in mind?
DeVeau: Yes. I had food in mind.
He chuckled, sensing she was kidding around at least a little bit
Taybrim: Food? Just food? That’s quite vague. Anything you fancy or want to avoid?
DeVeau: Seriously? I’m pretty eclectic in my tastes, and...it’s your pick. You pick somewhere. Why don’t you surprise me?
Sal contemplated. There were a bunch of wonderful restaurants on StarBase 118 that he enjoyed. From the fancy Betazoid cuisine at the Leincortna (translated as ‘Little Night Flower’) to the amazing pastries at Donut Worry.
But if he was thinking comfortable, comfort food, the one thing everyone could agree on and feel good about? He knew the place. Arguably his favorite place on the Promenade.
Taybrim: Alright, I’ll show you my favorite spot. I hope you like it.
DeVeau: Then lead on, and I’ll find out when we get there!
Sal rose, giving a generous wave of his hand towards the turbolift at the back of the office. A private lift, very fancy. It was rather funny that the lift pleased Sal far more than some Captain’s yacht or holosuite. Just something that helped the guy who couldn;t use transporters get around.
Taybrim: Then follow me!
((StarBase 118 Promenade - Illogical Eatery))
The Illogical Eatery was a unique place. There were other restaurants that had more traditional, more authentic Vulcan food. The Eatery wasn’t about authenticity, it was about IDIC. Fusion food made with local produce, it used Vulcan cooking techniques to create something new, different and delicious. Many considered it the most delightful vegan menu on the base. Paired with a warm, minimal but intensely comfortable interior it was a favorite place for a reason.
The married couple who owned the eatery were usually present and tonight was no different. T’Sava was fully Vulcan and the culinary artist. Her husband Sepoth was half Vulcan half human, and it was his touch that ensured the restaurant maintained it’s warm, pleasant demeanor.
Sal gestured for Alora to choose where she would like to sit, whether it was somewhere in the middle of people, or somewhere that was quiet and out of the way. Both were options depending on preference.
Taybrim: Welcome to the Illogical Eatery. ::he smiled just a touch.::
Alora couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Illogical Eatery. For a Vulcan, that was a completely illogical name, but she was pretty sure most would probably agree with the ideaology behind the concept.
DeVeau: How long have they been here? Not that I’ve been every place the Starbase has to offer, but I’m shocked I’ve not heard of this before.
Taybrim: You know, I’m not sure when they opened. It’s been here ever since I was posted to StarBase 118 and that was six years ago.
DeVeau: Well, I’m glad you’ve brought it to me now. I do love Vulcan food.
And Andorian food. And even some Klingon food. Yes, even gagh could be appetizing at times. Alora decided not to mention that, however. Some people didn’t seem so receptive to that idea.
The captain hadn’t explicitly said it, but Alora had recognised what the gesture he’d given her meant. Where should they sit? Aiming for a both, she chose one that was on the side, not completely out of traffic, allowing a view of the people who also had come to enjoy the eatery, but also giving them a sense of self containment, so they could hold their own little conversation rather than have everything be privy to the world around them. Alora slid into a seat and settled there, watching the captain.
DeVeau: How often do you forget to eat?
Taybrim: Hm? Well forget… not often. Get busy and pass it by? ::was that the same? Yes and no…:: Pretty often. Several times a week.
He wasn’t abashed by it, it was just a cycle he had. Sometimes everything as quite scheduled and regular, at other times he would deeply focus on something and exclude other things. And then back to regular.
DeVeau: I know exactly what my mom would say if she were to meet you.
Taybrim: If she’s anything like my mother I would expect an admonishment. ::he chuckled.::
Betazoid mothers were great admonishers when the mood suited them.
DeVeau: She would say ‘someone needs to give Sal Taybrim a sandwich’. And then she would make you a ten course meal and you’d sit there until she was satisfied that you’d eaten enough.
Alora’s mother was a dear, but she could be a little overbearing at times. She meant well, though. Grace was definitely a mother at heart, making sure others were taken care of, that they didn’t suffer - and if they did suffer, she would see to it that the suffering came to an end, if she could help it.
DeVeau: By making, I mean replicating. She cooks some, but not a ton. But she’d still wait until she thought you ate enough.
He chuckled good naturedly. That reminded him of a few other crew’s mothers he had met. In his own family his mother rarely cooked, but his grandfather was quite the amateur culinary artist.
Taybrim: Sounds a bit stifling and yet wonderful all at the same time.
DeVeau: What about your parents? What are they like? You’re from Betazed?
Alora had learned not to make assumptions about that. Tony was ‘Terran’, and anyone who spoke with him would think he’d been born and raised on Earth, rather than a freighter that roamed the stars. Doctor Foster was another whom she knew had not grown up on his homeworld, so to speak. It was best to ask rather than assume a truth that wasn’t necessarily true.
Taybrim: I am ::he nodded:: Youngest of three brothers which I’m sure my mother loved since she hoped for a daughter to carry on her legacy. ::He smiled fondly despite the words. His mother was neither cruel nor a bad parent, only forceful. Intimidating even. But compassionate as well.:: My mother is a decorated research scientist and a minor matriarch in her family. My father is a local politician and certainly the more mellow and easier to talk to of my parents. I have a good relationship with both, but my Mother has a strong personality and a big presence.
DeVeau: Are y’all of one of the houses?
Taybrim: ::he chuckled.:: No, like most Betazoids my family was decidedly middle class. Technically we’re of the Second house. But that’s like saying a Terran is from a country… historically there was a nobility but many people were under that banner. We’re one of the many people.
Sal had met a few noble Betazoids in his time in the fleet, most notably Brayden Jorey who was raised into the life of high society. Those personalities were strong and made a massive imprint on the mids of people who met them. No wonder the idea that houses were primary on betazed gathered steam in the Federation at large.
A server arrived, asking them for their choices. Alora realised she hadn’t even looked at the menu, and tapped on the hologram emitter to quickly do so, allowing the captain to make his choice. She then chose an interesting variation of the pok’tar, her favourite of the Vulcan dishes, but this one had included some influences not only from Earth, but from Bolarus as well. After they had made their choices, the server left, and their conversation continued.
Taybrim: what about you? Where did you grow up?
DeVeau: Ah, I’m pretty boring. Grew up on Earth, didn’t really travel beyond it until I joined Starfleet.
Taybrim: I don’t think that’s boring. I was well past academy age when I left my homeworld - unless you count a few field trips to the moons of the outer system.
He smiled, thinking back. His father spent his entire life on Betazed, his mother was more well traveled, but they had grown up in the same home his entire childhood. It had been nice. He had taken a job doing research off world and worked a decade as a civilian scientist before joining Starfleet, but still he had been an adult before he left.
DeVeau: Well, I’m not sure if you know anything about Earth’s geography, but I was born in Georgia, then moved to Japan when I was ten.
Taybrim: I know enough to realize they are across the globe from one another. And both are beautiful in their own way.
DeVeau: Have you ever visited Earth?
Taybrim: Yes ::he nodded:: I went to the Academy in San Francisco for two of my four years, and we visited Earth again a few months ago. That visit was more diplomatic and political.
His gaze trailed off. It was to prevent an assassination - which no one was supposed to know about. They were successful and everything was very hush hush. Still, it had been a beautiful trip.
He had also broken Taelon out of a tribunal. He smiled a bit, not fully explaining that, but a Fleet Captain helped a dear friend escape a very unfair law. It was so unlike good little Sal.
Maybe he was an impish lawbreaker after all. But one that unfailingly did what he felt was right.
DeVeau: Oh? Am I allowed to know what you did there?
Taybrim: Well, I’ll tell you more tales of our exploits on Earth when we’re not in public, but suffice to say we had some adventures and Taelon and I got to climb up to a rooftop and get picked up just like a holovid.
DeVeau: That...sounds like something I definitely would /not/ want to do, but I’m glad you enjoyed it. ::She paused briefly, asking,:: When...was a few months ago, out of curiosity?
Taybrim: ::He thought back:: It was spring in the northern hemisphere. The snow was melting in Russia.
DeVeau: Ah, I was just wondering. ::There was another brief pause before she queried further.:: Have you ever visited Japan?
Fleet Captain Sal Taybrim
StarBase 118 Ops
Lt. Cmdr. Alora DeVeau
Starbase 118 Ops